with her head held high against the wind
by coinoperatedbecca
Summary: Atticus found that they all had the same things to say about her: she's brash, she's blunt, she believes women should have the right to vote, she participates in protests, she swears, she smokes, she drinks, she wears pants and never wears shoes, and she's an embarrassment to both the female and male sexes alike.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: to be honest, I have no clue why in the hell I'm starting something else when I can barely keep up with what I already have published, but this was something that sprung to my mind and I couldn't get it out. It'll either be good or a complete piece of shit so we'll see. Also, updates for this and anything else are going to be pretty sporadic, as school has started and I have resumed being the hot mess that I am.

-o-o-o-

He wasn't sure how he found himself in this position.

At present, he was sitting in the elaborate, dimly-lit library of the Governor of Alabama. If he wasn't so uncomfortable, Atticus would have considered this to be the library of dreams. Beautiful mahogany bookshelves spanned around the perimeter of the room, each of them nearly touching the ceiling – if Atticus dared to get out of his seat, he would probably find books covering a wide range of subjects – it was no doubt that Josiah Graham was a well-read and intelligent man.

There was also no doubt that Josiah Graham was also a lavish man, not one to pass up on the finer things in life. Observing the room, Atticus couldn't help but to think of the differences between this room and the modest Finch's Landing back home in Maycomb. Though he wasn't well-versed in furniture or design, Atticus had a feeling that much of what was in this room came from Europe. Everything from the stiff leather furniture, to the ornate decorations that adorned Josiah's desk and side tables, to even the liquor that rested in crystal vessels on a wheeled bar cart seemed foreign to him. Or, maybe Atticus was a far simpler man than he thought.

One thing that he couldn't help but to observe was the fact that the young woman in the room with him was almost too plain to belong there. Her brown hair was pulled back in a simple plait, and she was dressed in a simple pair of slacks and white shirt. Though she had never been introduced to her, he knew who she was.

Jean Graham.

While he tried not to engage in the practices of gossip, Jean Graham always managed to be a topic of conversation in the legislature. Just two years ago, she had gone behind her father's back and masked her gender so that she would be admitted into a traditionally-male college in Mississippi in order to study law. It took the school nearly a month to realize that she was not Eugene Graham as she had stated herself to be – she had been walked in on by a fellow classmate in the dormitory's open shower area and was immediately reported. Josiah, who had been impressed with his daughter's surprising decision to attend finishing school, was subject to deep shame and embarrassment. For a short time after her expulsion from the university, Josiah tried to match her off with the young, single bachelors on the legislature. Atticus found that they all had the same things to say about her:

She's brash, she's blunt, _she believes women should have the right to vote_ , she participates in protests, she swears, she smokes, she drinks, she wears pants and never wears shoes, and she's an embarrassment to both the female and male sexes alike. Once, he recalled someone attempting to be sympathetic by saying "oh, she can't help the fact that she's like this, her mother died when she was so young and it's just been her and Josiah her entire life."

It was a surprise to many when young Jean decided to not only train to be a teacher, but also served as a governess for a wealthy family in Montgomery. While the men on the legislature believed that she had the ulterior motive of corrupting the youth, Atticus felt as though her spirit was being stifled by being shoved into the typical corners that women were confined to.

Sighing loudly, she crossed the room to the bar cart. Nosily grabbing two glasses, she grabbed the bottle that contained an amber liquid and filled them both – one was almost to the brim. She extended the lesser-filled cup to him. "I don't want to be here as much as you do," she told him. "We might as well make it enjoyable."

He declined the drink. "I don't drink, ma'am."

She gave him a look. Whether it was repulsion or shock, he couldn't quite tell. "Don't call me that," she said quickly before downing the cup that was meant for him. Grabbing the other glass, she nearly threw herself in the spot next to him. "Is Maycomb as boring as you are?" She asked, though the tone of her voice did not make it seem as though that was meant to be an insult.

"How do you know where I'm from?"

"Atticus Finch," she recited as though she was being quizzed by a teacher. "Thirty-five years old, has been a member of the state legislature for five years, a humble lawyer from Maycomb, Alabama. My father told me everything there is to know about you."

"I've never personally met your father before." He informed her.

"That doesn't mean he doesn't know who you are," she shrugged, taking a long sip from the glass. "People always swear that women always gossip, but men are even worse I swear to Christ Almighty."

"Why does he know this information?"

"He told me," she leaned closer to him, as if she was telling him a secret. "He told me that the hell alone if I went and got myself a teachin' job as long as it was done under his conditions. It turns out the only place that would take me, despite my _disreputable_ background, is a schoolhouse in Maycomb. Though, I'd probably have more options if dear old daddy let me live somewhere besides this damned state—"

"Jean," a sharp voice called as the door behind them swung open. Jean was unphased, her shoulder still pressed against his, her eyes set on his as she had the cup of liquor pressed against her lips. "Can you stop scaring any decent person away from here?"

She rolled her eyes as Josiah entered the room. Atticus had seen him before from afar, but never realized just how short the man was. Josiah was clad in a suit as white as his hair, and looked as though he was unphased that he had his guest waiting on him for nearly thirty-five minutes, despite the fact that it was Josiah who asked Atticus to come.

Josiah glanced at Jean, who degradedly got up from her seat and poured her father his own glass of the amber liquid. With a scowl on her face, she nearly shoved the glass in her father's hands before returning to her seat.

"I see that Jean has started to discuss my reason for asking you here, Mr. Finch," Josiah said, blatantly glaring at his daughter. "I hope she hasn't disturbed you."

"Quite the contrary," Atticus said. "We were having a nice conversation."

Josiah looked surprised, almost as if it were impossible for anyone to have a nice conversation with his daughter. "Alright," he said, almost as if he didn't believe Atticus. "Well, quite frankly, I'll get straight to my request. Jean will be moving to Maycomb within the next week in order to start the school year as a teacher. I have arranged for where she will be staying, but I must ask of you to take the train to Maycomb with her to ensure that she gets to the destination. I would also appreciate it if you kept an eye on her, to be a sort of guardian to her, to make sure she doesn't get into trouble."

"I suppose you've never traveled before," he told Jean, ignoring the fact that she essentially fled the state to attend law school. Josiah scowled while Jean tilted her head back and laughed.

"Atticus," she said, trying to stop herself from laughing. "He's tryin' to make sure I don't run away."

"I'm sure you wouldn't,"

"You have more faith in me than you should."

"I agree with her," Josiah said. "Now, I should forewarn you that my daughter has caused a lot of trouble in the past. She might be a burden, but I need to ensure that somebody I trust is watching over her. Now, I know I haven't met you but the young men on the legislature have informed me that you are one of the most dutiful men there are. Are you up for a challenge?"

Despite the fact that Atticus never had children of his own, he felt uneasy by the way Josiah treated and talked to his daughter. He was tempted to say no, to tell him that life would go along better for the both of them if he just let the woman do what she wants. Maybe she wouldn't find the need to rebel if her father just let her do as she wished.

However, his mouth deceived him. "I'll do what you need, sir."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: as said in a previous A/N, my Atticus is just about as lively as some dryer lint, so writing a story entirely in his POV is going to be hard, but I'm going to do it damn it.

-o-o-o-

The train ride from Montgomery to Maycomb was exactly one hour and twelve minutes. Atticus had made the trip so many times during the five years he had been on the legislature that he was quickly able to time exactly how long it took him to get there and back. He had just saved up enough to buy himself a car, and would occasionally use it to go back and forth to Montgomery, but he was always fond of trains. He could be productive on the train, getting work done for his clients back home before engaging with the legislature.

This time, he was glad he didn't drive.

Jean sat across from Atticus, her legs crossed, and her eyes not moving off of him. This was the first time he had seen her sober (well, it was only his second time seeing her) and he found that when she had her wits about her, she had an incriminating glare. Despite the fact that he hardly knew this woman and the two of them barely said anything to one another, she set him on edge. He wasn't even next to her and he could feel her intensity.

When he came to gather her that afternoon to take her on the train, he was almost surprised to see her in a full-length skirt. He figured that Josiah had forced her into it, convincing her that she must dress like the typical lady for her arrival into a new town. However, as she strode ahead of him at the train station, he noticed that they were actually just incredibly billowy pants.

The woman may intimidate him, but he appreciated her nerve.

"Do you mind?" She asked, a hint of annoyance on her voice as she flashed a cigarette and lighter in the air.

Atticus leaned and opened the window. "I don't mind."

He watched as she lit the cigarette with ease, and placed the stick in the corner of her mouth. For once, her eyes were off of him as she shuffled through her bag. Without even choking, she exhaled smoke through her nostrils and pulled out a tattered book titled _The History of Arithmetic._

"Some light reading," he pointed out.

She opened to a dog-eared page, and for a second, he thought that she was going to ignore him for the rest of the ride. "I'm shit at math," she said after a few moments, a puff of smoke surrounding her head. "I'm expected to teach these children reading, writing, history, science _and_ math. Your town is goin' to be full of children who are just shit at math."

"What of those subjects do you like best?"

She finally took the cigarette out of her mouth, opened her window, and tapped the ashes out of it. For once, she didn't look as though she was trying to burn him with her eyes. She was actually deep in thought. "Marie Curie has always fascinated me," she took a deep drag of her cigarette and slowly inhaled. "She was the first woman to win the Nobel Prize, and she won it _twice!_ " For once, there was genuine excitement from her. Her eyes were wide and she had a look of satisfaction on her face, as if Marie Curie's win was a win for all of womankind. "I'm not as bad at science as I am at math, but it's over my head. I think I'm most looking forward to history or reading, I can never get sick of that. I used to read books about ancient civilizations and rulers to Savannah all of the time and the two of us never got sick of it once bit."

 _Savannah_. Jean was a woman so shrouded in mystery that he couldn't help but to wonder about the different aspects of her life. He had heard so much about her from other people, but all of it so biased, that he felt as though he was in the presence of an enigma – someone that was impossible to crack open and get to truly know. He wondered if Savannah had been a friend of hers. To his recollection, she had no siblings, and her job in Maycomb was to be her first teaching position.

Then, he remembered something.

"Was Savannah the girl you were a governess for?"

Atticus should not have been surprised as he was by her actions. Jean squeezed the cigarette so hard between her fingers that it broke in half, and he watched in awe as she grounded the still-lit half on the ground with her foot (all the while, still glaring at him with an intensely cold stare). She stiffened, almost as if something had physically jolted her. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I apologize."

She ignored him, tossing the rest of her cigarette out of the window and returning to her book. He could feel her anger radiating off of her as she read, the only sound coming from her was the occasional turning of the page. After a few moments, Atticus picked up the file he had brought from home and flipped through it, trying not to look at his travel companion.

Of course, he would oblige and not talk about the subject, but her intense reaction made him wonder _more_ about her. Was Savannah the girl she was in charge of? Was Jean close to Savannah? Did Savannah's parents fire her? The questions pounded in his head, leaving him unable to think of anything else but _why_ Jean would react in such a way. He thought about the women he knew - his sisters and the women around town – he had met his fair share of fiery women.

But he couldn't compare any of them to her.

Of course, Alexandra and Caroline would occasionally lash out on their brothers, but they always behaved like every other woman he knew. They wore dresses, went to church each Sunday, hosted teas, and didn't have opinions on Nobel Prize winners.

"Is that for the legislature?" Her eyes were still on the book, but she had noticed that he, too, was working on something.

At first, he was so consumed wondering about her that it didn't register in his mind that she was speaking to him again. He looked down at his watch – they were only twenty-eight minutes into their ride – he still had forty-four minutes of this intense curiosity (though, he was sure it wouldn't leave after they parted in Maycomb). "It's actually a case I have back in Maycomb." He answered, closing the file.

"Am I not allowed to ask about it?"

"I can tell you a little bit about it," he said, gently placing the file back in his briefcase. "It's not a big case or anything, it's actually quite frivolous. A man in town claimed that his neighbor stole from tools from him, so he destroyed his neighbors' crops."

He swore he could have almost seen a smile. "Who are you representin', the crop-destroyer or the thief?"

"The crop-destroyer." He said.

"Does he got a chance of winnin'?"

"I'm tryin' my best to get him a good deal."

"I mean, I don't think there's many options for him," Jean said. "Even if the neighbor _did_ steal his property, I feel like he's goin' to have to compensate for the loss of crops anyway, especially if those crops are that man's livelihood. Is the neighbor asking for an obscene amount?"

"You'll learn about these men once you get to Maycomb," he said. "They're rivals and go through quite extreme measures to get back at one another, this isn't the first time they've been in court. I'm going to request for the crop-destroyer to pay a fair amount for the destroyed property, and if it's proven that the man did steal from him, I'll request return of the property."

"Do these cases ever annoy you?" She asked. "I feel like it would get old dealin' with these same ol' things."

"It's how I make my living."

"Have you ever done a murder trial?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Really?" She was leaning forward now, as though he was telling her some sort of sacred secret.

"My first two clients, actually."

For once, there was not a look of annoyance on her face, but one of absolute shock. "Your _first_ clients?" She repeated. "Hell, I'd rather be the mediator between the crop-destroyer and the thief for the rest of my life then. Can I ask what happened?"

She looked genuinely interested as he told her the story of the Haverfords and how they murdered a blacksmith because the blacksmith wouldn't give them their horse back until they paid for the shoes that the blacksmith put on it. He told her how there was a plea deal, that they would simply get life imprisonment if they pled guilty to second-degree murder. But the Haverfords were stubborn men, claiming that they were not guilty because the blacksmith deserved it. "They were the last two men hanged in the Maycomb County jail. I've never much liked criminal law after that."

For a few moments, she stared at him, but this time her gaze was not cold nor cynical. It was as if she was absorbing the story that he had told, as if she was trying to comprehend every last word. That first case of his had weighed heavily on him, and even to this day, nearly ten years after the case, he carried a strange sense of guilt with him. He remembered telling Alexandra, who merely scoffed at him and told him that the men had it coming for them and that Atticus shouldn't have even defended them. He didn't tell many people about the case after that.

But now, it felt nice to have someone actually _listen_ to the story.

"I don't think I would like criminal law much if I were you, either." She said, and for some reason, that simple affirmation made him feel good. "I can't even comprehend why someone would take another's life, let alone comprehend _defending_ someone who did that."

"Thankfully, no murders have happened since then."

"Would you take the case if one did?"

"I think I would."

"Why is that? If you don't like it, that is?"

"I have a duty," he replied simply. "I have a duty to Maycomb and the people who live there. I was born and raised there, and I must give back to it."

"Do you plan on runnin' for president? That was a very political answer." She snorted.

"The legislature is just fine for me."

She lit another cigarette, but hesitated before she put it in her mouth. Looking down at his watch, he was almost thankful to see that in just fifteen minutes they would be arriving back in Maycomb. After getting her settled as he had promised Josiah he would do, he would go to his office and get work done where there would be no distractions or interferences. "What is Maycomb like?" She asked.

"It's a tired old place, but I don't mind it."

"Do you know the woman I'll be staying with?" She asked, and he could detect a hint of concern in her voice (though he'd never be the one to point it out). "Her name is Maudie, I think."

"Maudie Atkinson," he confirmed. "I've known her my entire life."

"And?" She asked. She wasn't so good at hiding her worry now.

"You'll get along with her," he told her. "She's one of the greatest women I know, and also one of the most sarcastic people I've met in her life. If you compliment her garden and her lane cakes, you'll do just fine with her."

"Do you think I'll get along alright there?" She asked. "In Maycomb, I mean?"

"I won't like, Maycomb is full of a lot of gossip." He informed her. "I think you will be the cause of much controversy."

She exhaled, smoke filling the compartment once again, and a smug smile growing on her face. "I think I can live with that."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: this is kind of a weird transition-y chapter. The next chapter is where things are going to pick up a little, so I apologize for the slow burn. I have a plan for where I want to go with this, and have later chapters planned out, but of course I just need to get myself there. I'm currently avoided all school responsibilities which means I'll write just about anything which is why you're getting this HA. I know it's a lil boring but it'll get better I promise.

-o-o-o-

Atticus wasn't sure when time seemed to move slower – when he had a light case load or the walk from his law office to his house on a mid-August evening. Though summer would soon be coming to an end, it did not feel that way. The air was hot and miserable and he only needed to be outside for no more than five minutes for sweat to accumulate. Despite its confinement, Atticus diligently wore a suit to work every day, even if it meant feeling like he was suffocating every moment of the summer.

"Hey, Mister Finch!" He heard a voice call out as he approached his porch steps. However, when he looked around, he couldn't see anyone.

And then he saw her legs peeking from the threshold of Maudie's porch.

Jean had been in town for only a week, but was already the subject of gossip among the women in town. He would never forget the look of pure _joy_ on Stephanie Crawford's face when he watched her discuss the _scandalous broad_ from Montgomery to Rachel Haverford. For from the moment Jean stepped foot in Maycomb, it seemed as though she was destined to cause chaos.

As it turned out, Jean didn't bring a single dress with her, which was the first cause of controversy. Then, all day long, instead of associating with the young women in town, Jean could be seen riding a bicycle (where she obtained it, Atticus wasn't sure) throughout Maycomb all day long. She went from Maudie's house to the shops and then to the schoolhouse, precariously balancing her supplies on a basket that she fastened on the bicycle herself. _She's up to something_ , he heard women whisper throughout town. _I don't know what it is, but she's up to something._

However, the woman wasn't completely devoid of socializing. On occasion, and at Maudie's invitation, Jean joined the other women in the neighborhood for tea. When he discovered this, after hearing Stephanie complain about her unruly presence, Atticus couldn't help but to wish that he could be a fly on the wall to see exactly what she was doing.

Despite the fact that the other women in town seemed to be bothered by Jean's mere existence, the one woman who did not complain was Maudie. "I don't understand why those old hens are fussing," Maudie told Atticus one evening.

About three days after her arrival, Josiah had called Atticus to make sure that Jean was still where she was supposed to be. That was when Atticus realized that he hadn't actually _talked_ to Jean since their train ride into Maycomb. It wasn't that he was avoiding her, he just hadn't realized that his responsibilities extended past making sure she didn't skip her train. After conveying to Josiah that Jean was doing just fine, he made it a point to go to Maudie to ask how her tenant was doing.

Maudie had shrugged, as if Atticus was asking her about the weather. "She's just fine," Maudie said. "If these damn women got past their stereotypes, they'd realize that she's actually quite a hoot. But she's not bad, not one bit."

Instead of shouting an answer to Jean, he approached Maudie's porch. As he got closer, he got a better view of her – sprawled out on her stomach, faces inches away from a map of the world that she was painting. Her hair was matted at her forehead and her face was a bright shade of pink, indicating to Atticus that she had been out here for quite some time.

Atticus cocked his head to the side, examining her work. "That's actually quite good."

"Is that a hint of surprise I detect in your voice?" She asked, putting her paintbrush down on a rag she had set before her, before pulling herself up on her feet. She wiped her forehead and examined the piece. "I think it's just about done."

"I thought the school provided maps for the classrooms," he told her.

"They're all inaccurate," she said simply. "The ones at the school all put America in the middle, but in fact that is not geographically correct. I want to teach these kids the truth, not some political bullshit."

"That's fair," he replied.

"I feel like I can be blunt with you." She said, suddenly making him nervous about what was going to come next. "Your wife is a real piece of work."

 _His wife_? The women in town were known to spread some pretty outlandish rumors, but he didn't quite understand why they would marry him off to a wife who did not exist. He gave her a perplexed look. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about." He replied honestly.

Jean rolled her eyes. "I know what you're goin' to say," she said. "I just haven't had a chance to know her, she's not like that with you, she's—"

"No," he interrupted, and a smirk played on her lips. "I'm not married."

Now it was her turn to look confused. "You're not?" She asked. "The woman I met today wasn't your wife?"

"Well, I don't know who you met today, but I'm not married."

"Hmm," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "By the looks of you, I would have thought you were married. You're a nice enough man, clean-cut, make an honest living, a man like you would surely be married."

"I'm not," he repeated. "Who did you meet today?"

"Her name was Alexandra," she replied, picking some paint from underneath her fingernail. "She said her name was Alexandra Finch."

"Her name is Alexandra Finch _Hancock_ ," he told her. "She probably omitted her married name when she was telling you about how she has spent her entire life in Maycomb and how the Finch name is one of the finest names Maycomb has to offer."

Jean laughed, a grin now on her face. "Christ Almighty, this is the first time I've even heard a hint of spite in your tone, Mister Finch," she teased. "You must be related to this woman somehow."

"I didn't mean to sound spiteful," he said quickly. "She's my sister."

"I've never had an older sister, but they do seem like the _worst_." She said dramatically.

"She's four years younger than I am."

"Man," Jean chuckled, shaking her head. "It's a good thing we're friends or else you'd probably want to murder me right now for sayin' all of this about your sister."

"We're friends?"

"Well," she said. "I guess it's not quite like that. But we are kinda stuck with each other, don't you think? I heard daddy called you the other day, and it looks like we've got this weird thing goin' on. I promise I won't make your life _too_ difficult, though I probably shouldn't make any promises because I've been known to mess up a lot."

"You haven't messed up your map," he pointed out.

 _She smiled_.

"I'm curious," he said, and almost as quickly as the smile appeared on her face, it was gone. "What did my sister say to you?"

"I guess I egged her on," Jean admitted, crossing her arms. "She was goin' on about how I was goin' to send my daddy into an early grave if I kept behavin' the way I did and I should probably be grateful to Maycomb and the fine people in it for giving me a chance to redeem myself and that I should pray that the Lord lead me to a husband so I wouldn't have to work too long."

Atticus wished he could say that he was surprised by his sister's actions, but he wasn't. Alexandra, by far, was one of the most difficult people he had ever encountered. At one point, he swore that she was making up etiquette rules because the things she came up with were absolutely insane. "I wouldn't take her too seriously," he said slowly. "She has a very… _perverse_ sense of how the world works."

"Well, hopefully she'll never want to see me again." Jean said matter-of-factly. "I almost sent her into shock when I told her to piss in her hat."

He had to refrain himself from laughing after being reminded of the time his brother Jack, home from medical school one Christmas, looked Alexandra flat in the eye and said: "you and your propriety could go straight to hell where you deserve, you wretch." He could imagine the expression on Alexandra's face perfectly, and began to feel guilty for being so amused.

"My brother and sister have said worse to her," he said, after taking a few moments to suppress his amusement. "Though she's not one to get over things, I'm afraid."

"A woman with a grudge, I love it." Jean replied sarcastically. "I hope for her sake she doesn't see me again."

"She means well." Atticus told her, and even if he didn't sound like it, he meant it.

"You have to say that, you're her brother." Jean replied. "It's just like me tellin' folks that my daddy is a fine upstanding man, but you've seen him and you know he isn't."

"I have respect for your father."

"That makes one of us."

"Are you faring alright here?"

"You're only asking that because you have to report back to daddy."

"I mean it," he said. "I'm not under his instruction to do anything."

"I like Maudie," she said honestly. "She's the only woman who hasn't treated me like I'm a piece of dirt."

"I told you the two of you would get along."

"It may be too early to say, but I'm certain she's goin' to be the reason I won't go crazy here."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." He said. "I ought to get goin' now."

He was almost at his front door when he heard her shout: "Hey!" Quickly, he turned around. She had a smirk on her face, and her hands were now resting on her hips.

"Yes, Jean?" He called back.

"Next time my daddy calls tell him I ran away and joined a brothel and that he can stop buggin' you!"


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: honestly, have no clue what I'm doing. I (finally!) graduated law school in May, and just finished the bar exam in the end of July. I'm trying to get back into doing the things I love doing the most, like reading for fun and writing these stories, but I'm a little wiped out and I think it's going to take me a little while to try to get back in my rhythm. I have plans for this and my other two WIPs, but getting those ideas out has been quite a struggle. It's been a tough year (especially summer) and I've missed doing this 3.

-o-o-o-

"She's destroying those children," Alexandra said one afternoon at the end of September when he had stopped by for lunch. "She is ruining an entire generation of Maycomb's youth."

Atticus didn't need to ask his sister for clarification, he knew just who she was talking about – Jean. Since Jean's arrival into Maycomb, the two women had it out for each other. Alexandra would give Jean "kind" (though Atticus was quite certain that it was anything but) instructions on how to get by in Maycomb and Jean would find ways to get under Alexandra's skin. In fact, one afternoon during tea at Stephanie Crawford's house, after Alexandra berated Jean for twenty minutes about how she should really stop wearing slacks in front of the children at school, Jean slouched in her chair and rested her feet on Stephanie's dining room table. ("I was absolutely mortified!" Alexandra exclaimed to her brother, almost in tears).

"Why is that?" Atticus asked, feigning interest. He truly didn't want to be there, he had a big case coming up and it would have better suited him to be able to work through lunch, but he wanted to avoid yet another tizzy from his sister in which she would spend at least a half hour asking him why he wasn't married so that he would have a wife to fix all of his meals.

Alexandra set down her silverware with a loud _clang_. "She is feeding those children."

Atticus paused. "What?" He asked, unsure of what his sister was talking about.

"She is feeding the children." Alexandra said again. "I am just appalled –"

"Alexandra," he said slowly. "What do you mean?"

"Those dirty children," Alexandra said, waving her hand in the air as if she was swatting a bug away from her. "The ones who live on the wrong side of town. _She's feeding them_."

"I don't understand why that is a problem, Zandra." He said, brow furrowed. "Their families have very little, they're probably starving—"

"It simply isn't done." His sister responded curtly, ending the conversation.

In the time that Jean had been in Maycomb, her father called Atticus weekly – most of the time biweekly – to ensure that his daughter wasn't doing anything to destroy his reputation ("that girl has done enough to send me to an early grave," he's grumbled on more than one occasion). With each phone call, though Josiah was quick to point out Jean's faults and past failures, Atticus insisted that Jean was doing quite fine. He purposefully omitted the gossip he was constantly hearing about her.

Just as Atticus expected, Jean very quickly turned Maycomb on its head. She didn't have companionship in women her age – she went to one card game hosted by a young woman in town, and after she went on a rampage about how none of the women thought for themselves, she was never invited again – and although she received a weekly invitation to tea at Stephanie Crawford's house, Atticus knew that Stephanie only invited her so that the other women could attempt to examine Jean as though Jean was some creature from another planet.

While it was certainly true that the parents were not too fond of having a woman like Jean teach their children, she was certainly popular amongst the children. One rare Sunday when Jean accompanied Atticus and Maudie to church, the children were overcome with delight. Jean must have spent at least a half hour on the church's steps, asking the children how their weekends were, and entertaining all of the questions that they had for her. While the parents were trying to pry their children away from her, Jean sat there, intently listening to what each child had to say.

On their walk back, Atticus had remarked: "you must really like the children."

"Don't get sentimental." She replied, and that was the end of that.

At lunch, he tried to relay to Alexandra that the children seemed to adore Jean, and that it didn't seem as though the woman was doing any harm to them. "She certainly would have lost her job by now if there was any indication that she wasn't anything but the best for those children." He said, trying to be reassuring.

"Why are you so adamant on protecting her?" Alexandra asked with a shudder, as though Jean was some sort of gruesome disease.

"I'm not, Zandra," he said. "I'm merely stating the facts. She's doing a fine job."

"You're leading yourself to ruin," she responded, shaking her head. "She's going to hurt you, I just know it. You're too invested in her. I would stay clear from her if I were you."

"I told her father I'd—"

"And that was very unfair of him!" Alexandra snapped back. "She caused him a world of hurt and now he's dumping her onto you to make her your problem. It's not right of him. You're not even being compensated for your troubles."

Atticus could feel his brow furrowing. "You sound foolish." He said firmly. "Actually, you sound insane."

Alexandra gasped, her cutlery going down with a _clang_. "You _never_ used to talk to me like this!" She exclaimed, standing up. Hastily, she began cleaning the table. "I think we're done. She's already pollutin' your mind."

"Zandra, stop—"

"I am absolutely appalled," she said, taking his plate away from him. "Since _Miss Graham_ is feedin' those children, maybe she'll feed you too! I would expect this sort of disrespect from Jack, but _never_ from you."

He examined her for a minute, her face flushed, her hands nearly shaking as she collected the dishes to bring into the kitchen. He knew that the easiest thing for him to do was to play into this fit – to apologize profusely and say that she was right, that he was being disrespectful – but, Alexandra's family had done that their entire lives, and it turned her into the woman she was today. Atticus and his siblings spent their entire lives trying to quell Alexandra's fits. At first, they would all try to reason with her, but when that proved fruitless, they just bit their tongues and gave her what she wanted. Her entire life, Alexandra got what she wanted, and yet it was never enough.

Instead of apologizing, he stood from his seat, acting as though he was finished his meal instead of having it torn away from him in a fit of anger. "I best be leaving," he said. "Thank you again for lunch."

Though proud of himself for standing his ground, he couldn't bring himself to observe the expression on Alexandra's face as he left.

-o-o-o-

For the rest of the afternoon, he found himself thinking about Jean feeding the students. Though Jean came from a wealthy family, her father had made a point of telling Atticus that he wasn't giving his daughter any financial assistance, exclaiming: "she has cost me enough, it's about time she does this on her own." Thankfully, Jean was with Maudie, who didn't mind when Jean couldn't pay rent on the way, and according to Jean always seemed to make too much food that she offered to Jean so that it wouldn't go to waste. A teacher's salary wasn't much, and Atticus reckoned that what little Jean had left after paying Maudie for rent went towards her students.

That is why, after he was done work for the day, he stopped at the general market on his way home. Almost feverishly, he grabbed loaves of bread, mustard and packages of boiled ham. He didn't stop there, he collected a handful of pencils, composition books, anything he could imagine students needing. He nearly dropped everything before getting to the counter to pay. The salesmen commented that this was an unusual order for Atticus, who merely shrugged it off.

He realized, as he walked up Maudie's porch steps, that Jean may not exactly be receptive to this delivery. She was not one to accept much from others – she was too proud for that. As he knocked on the door, he imagined her reaming him out for inserting himself in her business. He secretly wished for Maudie to open the door, so that he could anonymously leave the items with her.

As was his luck, Jean answered the door. Her hair was tossed in a pile on her head, and appeared to be held up with kitchen twine. She had a book in her one hand, and her free hand was on her hip. "Well Mister Finch," she said, a smirk on her face. "Isn't it rather late for a visit? I'll go get Maudie—"

"No, no," he said. "I'm just here to drop something off. For you, actually."

She gave him a quizzical look. "For me?"

He offered her the bag. "It's nothing."

Almost hesitantly, she took the bag. She put the book down on the floor, and to Atticus' great surprise, she began looking through the bag. "This is very random," she said, chuckling.

"I suppose saying it was for you wasn't technically correct," he responded. "Alexandra told me you're feeding the children at school."

Jean cocked her head to one side; her mouth open as if she was going to say something. Instead, she looked through the bag again. "You bought this for the students?" She asked, clearing her throat.

When she finally looked up, Atticus saw tears in her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

"Atticus," a voice called out from behind him. It was late evening – nearly nine – and Atticus thought that he was walking home alone. He spent extra time in the office that day, though he didn't have much work to do. He decided to read past dinner, and time seemed to go quickly after that.

With hesitation, he turned his head.

Though she was at quite a distance and his eyes were not the best in the dark, he knew it was Jean. He turned fully, waiting for her. She was carrying what seemed to be a heavy bag, but almost broke out into a run to catch up. As she got closer, he noticed a shiner on her right eye. He must have given her a look because she shrugged, "I'll tell you about it later, I don't want anyone to hear me out here." Then, she shuddered. "I sound like a lunatic."

He couldn't blame her. Though it was nearing October and Jean had been in Maycomb for nearly two months, the woman was still under intense scrutiny. He could hear people, especially parents, talking about her in town. Maudie told him that Jean was the subject of many conversations of afternoon teas. _And_ Atticus was still on bad terms with Alexandra because of the way Alexandra spoke of _and_ to Jean.

"You don't," he assured you. "I was once the subject of Stephanie Crawford's gossip, it's like she has ears everywhere."

Jean scoffed, but when Atticus looked at her, she was smiling. "You're becoming quite brazen," she joked. The smile disappeared. "You're right, though. It's relentless."

With her sharp wit and tough as nails attitude, Atticus never realized that what the citizens of Maycomb said about her could actually hurt her. She was always quick to brush everything off that Atticus automatically assumed that she was unbothered by all of the gossip. "Are you alright?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, you can give daddy a shining report—"

"I don't mean that," he didn't mean to cut her off, and found himself shocked by his own actions. "I mean, are _you_ alright, with how everyone talks?"

She adjusted the bag in her hands. "No one's ever asked me that," she said. "Hell, I'm fine. People talk everywhere – ladies gossiped about me at tea in Montgomery, too. Maycomb's just smaller and it's harder to avoid." In a brief moment of silence, she laughed. "What did perfect Mister Atticus Finch do to become the subject of Miss Stephanie's torture?"

He chuckled. "I'm thirty-five and unmarried, and Miss Stephanie has a wild imagination." He replied. "There was a rumor for a while that I had a secret son in Mississippi."

Jean covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "That isn't funny," she said, trying to be serious despite the smile on her face. "That's _not_ funny."

Atticus shrugged. "It's not," he agreed. "Especially because there's actually three secret sons, and they're actually up North somewhere." He said this seriously, but his smile deceived him.

Jean nearly hollered with laughter. "You devil!" She exclaimed, before trying to calm herself.

The rest of their walk home went fast. Jean, getting quite the kick from his joke, created an elaborate story that she was going to tell the ladies at Sunday tea in order to get them to stop talking about her for once. They were standing in the middle of the road, between Atticus' and Maudie's houses, when Jean said: "well, this was definitely not boring."

Impulsively, he found himself asking her if she'd like to come into his home. After having company for the entire walk, he couldn't help but to think of how quiet his home was. "I want to hear about your eye," he added quickly.

"I'll come in," she agreed. Atticus suddenly felt self-conscious – she had never been in his home before. When he opened the door and turned on the solitary light, he saw the look of shock on her face.

"You leave your door unlocked?" She asked.

"I don't have much here to worry about." He responded, and he noticed her looking around. His house was plain – he didn't have pictures hanging, and his furniture was old hand-me-downs from Alexandra. The only thing he cared about were his books, which were neatly organized and tucked away in his office.

"I like it," she said, following him to the kitchen and setting her bag down on the table. If she were anyone else, he would have thought she was lying. But Jean was unapologetically truthful, which made him believe (or hope) that she was telling the truth.

Atticus didn't respond, but instead opened the icebox. He couldn't remember the last time he went shopping, and noticed that he didn't have much to offer. "I hope you aren't hungry," he said, trying to hide the embarrassment that was bubbling up throughout him. "I'm afraid I don't have much."

"Not to worry," she replied, digging through her bag and pulling out a large can. "I bought a can of soup – I can't have this whole thing myself. I'll heat it for us."

"It's yours, I couldn't—"

"Oh shut up," she said, beginning to open cabinets to look for a pot. "Just get me something to cook this in."

-o-o-o-

"You haven't told me about your eye," he remarked as he watched her struggle to open the can of soup with a knife. A can opener was not something he had in his limited supplies, and she was forced to improvise.

"Oh," she said, her back to him. "Right. A kid hit me."

"A kid hit you?"

"Ha!" She said triumphantly as she finally pried the top off of the can and dumped the contents into the pot and turned the stove on. She turned to face him. "Yes, a kid hit me." She sighed, rubbing at her bruised eye. "It's more complex than that."

"How so?"

"It was the Dixon boy," she said. "That young thing who lives on the edge of town, the one with four other siblings whose mama left them and whose daddy drinks all of his earnin's away and beats his kids."

Atticus raised his eyebrow. "This poor boy – his name is William but he likes to be called Willie. He's just full of anger. He misses his mama and he's angry his daddy treats him awfully and he has nothin' to eat and is behind all of the other students because he's havin' a hard time and it just manifests in this extreme anger and frustration."

"So he hit you?"

"Well first, he was screamin'." She said sadly, turning her back to stir the soup. "He was upset because it was just about lunch and I placed out sandwiches in case any students want it. I try not to blatantly give them because these kids are proud, instead I act like I had extra food. Well, he just wasn't having it. And then, he upset some little girl next to him by acting out, so I told all of the students to go out to the play yard for lunch, but I made him come to my desk so I could see what was the matter, and he slugged me right in the eye. Thankfully, everyone had gone so no one's parents will be talkin' about this."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I won't lie, I was shocked." She admitted, sticking her pinky in the pot to test the temperature. She turned to face him again. "I took his head in my hands and I told him it was fine to be sad and angry and frustrated but that hittin' wasn't anything I tolerated. I told him I heard him and that he could talk to me instead of lashing out."

"And how did that work out?" Atticus asked, genuinely curious.

"The poor thing started sobbing," she sighed. "I held him for a little while and he ended up eating one of the sandwiches I made and he just sat with me quietly during the lunch period."

"Well that was a good result." Atticus remarked.

Jean shrugged. "I suppose so, but it's not enough. There's got to be something more to do for him. He's clearly suffering but people could care less."

The pair fell silent as Jean spooned the soup into bowls for them, and set one in front of Atticus. Shortly after, she sat next to him with her own bowl, stirring the grayish-brown stew.

"I hear your sister's gettin' married next weekend," she said, and it was clear to Atticus that she was done talking about her job. "I didn't realize you had two sisters."

"I have a brother, too." He replied.

"I've always wondered what it was like to have siblings." She said. "As I've gotten older, it doesn't seem too appealing."

"Not all siblings are like Alexandra," he assured her.

Jean chuckled. "You're not holding back tonight," she smiled. "What are your other siblings like?"

"I suppose I'm closest to my brother," he told her. "He's ten years younger than me. Our mother passed shortly after he was born, and our father passed when he was ten, so we became close. I kind of wish I were more like him," he found himself chuckling. "He's adventurous, he's good at jokes, folks find him fun."

He could see Jean processing the information he had given her. "What's your other sister like?" She asked.

"She drives Alexandra absolutely crazy," he said. "She drinks a lot, she stays out late, she's loud."

"I think I'd like her," Jean remarked. "I can't help but to be surprised to hear she's gettin' married."

"Why's that?"

"I feel like marriage is a death sentence," she said. "That may have been overdramatic. But marriage is so inherently unequal. It seems as though every woman I know who gets married loses their freedom the moment the ring is put on them."

"I suppose I'll never get a wedding invitation from you, then," he joked, unsure of how to respond.

"Oh hell no," she said seriously, stirring around the remaining contents of her bowl. She looked up at him, "gettin' married is the last thing I'd ever do."

He wasn't sure how to respond. Obviously, though she had never said as much before, Atticus had a feeling of what her opinions on marriage were. However, because every woman in Maycomb seemed to be obsessed with the notion of getting married and having families, he wasn't quite sure how to respond to Jean's remarks.

"I'm sorry," she said firmly, not looking at him. "That was grim. I hope your sister is happy. It's gettin' late, I should be goin,' thank you for the company."

He thought that perhaps he should thank _her_ for the company – for the break in the routine of his normally solitary nights – but as he watched her wash her bowl off and show herself the door, all he could say was: "have a good night, Jean."


	6. Chapter 6

It was to no surprise that Jean got along well with Jack quickly. When he thought about it, Atticus realized that the two of them were kindred spirits. The first stop Jack made in Maycomb was to Maudie's house, where he jokingly professed his love for her as he did every time he returned home. Jean was the first to go onto the porch, her arms crossed as she told Jack he sounded like a damned fool. In the short time that the pair were together when Jack first arrived in Maycomb they exchanged sarcastic remarks, told their share of raunchy jokes, and quickly agreed that at eight o'clock that evening they would go to the dance hall in Abbottsville.

"I hope you don't mind if I use your car," Jack said as they departed Maudie's house, he was nearly grinning. "That girl is somethin', no wonder Zandra downright hates her."

"That's fine," Atticus said, though he couldn't help but to be nervous that something may happen that would cause Josiah to get angry with him. "Just be careful, I have a responsibility to make sure she doesn't get into any trouble."

Jack laughed as they entered the threshold of his home. "Trouble?" He asked, feigning shock. "With me? Atticus, you know I'm a livin' angel."

Atticus chuckled, though his nerves did not subside. He knew that this outing was going to be the subject of more gossip, and he hoped it did not find his way to Josiah. Despite the fact that Josiah called less now, each time they spoke on the phone, Josiah rattled off a list of rumors he heard about Jean. For the life of him, Atticus was not sure how these rumors found their way to Montgomery.

Despite his trepidation, Atticus thought that this would be good for Jean. While she did on occasion go to teas and other social gatherings around town, she wasn't truly friends with any of the women who were there. The only person who Jean seemed to truly open up to was Maudie. Jean talked to him, of course, but he couldn't help but to wonder if their friendship (if you could call it that) was formed merely because of his promise to her father to look after her. However, he couldn't help but to look forward to the evenings when they happened to leave at the same time after working late.

When Jack left at eight to get Jean, she was already waiting at the door. Atticus got a quick glimpse as he went to go to his office and was nearly shocked. She was wearing a dress – one that she must have borrowed from Maudie as she had only ever worn trousers since coming to Maycomb – and had curled her hair. It was not something that he would have expected her to do.

-o-o-o-

Jack did not return home until three in the morning. Atticus had planned on staying up until they got back, expecting to only be waiting until midnight or so, and found himself growing more and more nervous as the hours ticked on.

At one, he went to Maudie's. He knocked, and after a few moments passed with no answer, he assumed that he was overreacting and should go home. As he turned to leave, Maudie opened the door. When he got a look at her, her eyes were still glazed over with sleep and she was pulling a dressing gown around her. "What on earth is the matter?" She asked groggily.

"Did Jean come back yet?" He asked.

He could have sworn Maudie rolled her eyes. "Honey, I know you told her daddy that you'd watch after her, but she's a twenty-year old girl," she said. "She's been stuck in this hell hole where everyone's talkin' about her and starin' at her like she's some part of a freak show _and_ she's workin' nonstop tryin' to teach Maycomb's wild youth, she should be allowed to have fun for once in her life."

"It's late." Was all he could think.

Maudie's head tilted back as she laughed. "Oh dear," she said, smiling at him. "If you think this is late, you would be appalled at the time William and I would get home when I was her age."

He smiled weakly at her. "You're not even thirty yet and you talk like you're an old maid," he teased.

"Well I feel like one," she retorted, the smile still on her face. He had known Maudie her entire life – she was the same age as Jack, and since her family's land neighbored Finch's Landing, the two spent their entire childhood together. Maudie had married her husband young, and he died nearly a year ago after a prolonged illness. Since then, she had taken in a number of temporary renters – Atticus assumed that this was to make the house feel less empty.

"I suppose I'm overreacting," he said. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

She patted his arm. "It's nothin'," she said as she retreated into the doorway. "Though I do find it funny that you're worried about Jean and not your brother."

"Jack may have to face the wrath of Alexandra, but he can handle that himself. I don't want an angry call from Josiah Graham in a few days' time." He responded.

Maudie shook her head. "What gems," she sighed. "You better get some sleep – give yourself some energy for the wedding festivities this weekend."

"I might actually start drinking coffee," he chuckled before leaving.

After getting back home, he got himself ready for bed and tried to force himself to sleep. However, he found himself wide awake, waiting to hear the car rolling into the carpark. He laid there for two hours, trying every trick in the book to get himself to fall asleep. Even when he finally heard the car approaching and Jack and Jean whispering their goodbyes to one another, Atticus could not feel himself grow tired. Even when he knew that Jack was back in the guestroom and Jean was presumably back at Maudie's, his mind was still racing, preventing him from sleep.

-o-o-o-

The weekend on Caroline's wedding, for lack of better words, was fine. Alexandra, of course, had planned activities for both the day before and the day of the wedding. On Saturday, members of the Finch family were to arrive at the Landing for an early dinner, which meant that Atticus, Jack, and Caroline spent the entire morning preparing the Landing for the event while Alexandra cooked. And of course, Sunday was the actual wedding, and Alexandra ensured that it would be an all-day affair.

Needless to say, Alexandra was not so happy with Jack the moment he and Atticus arrived at the Landing (nearly an hour later than they had promised, since they both overslept after having such a late night). "John Hale Finch," she said, her hands on her hips and her lips pursed. "I received a call from Stephanie Crawford just twenty minutes ago—"

"Lord Almighty," Jack said, rubbing his head. "Can you just lower your voice a bit?"

"I will not!" She exclaimed. "Stephanie told me that you took that _Graham_ girl only God knows where last night and she didn't hear the car get back until _three in the morning_!" Alexandra's voice was shrill and cheeks flushed. "You know how important this weekend is and you dared to tarnish it!"

"I don't know," Caroline said, shrugging her shoulders. "Do you remember when he and that Benning girl went skinny dipping when they were sixteen?"

"Do any of you take anything seriously?" Alexandra exclaimed. "I don't want to hear another word about late night rendezvous' or skinny dipping again!"

The only time Atticus saw a semblance of a smile on Alexandra's face was when she was interacting with family or guests. When she was not surrounded by others, she could be seen giving her siblings – especially Jack – a menacing glare. The other three Finch siblings were unphased, however, because this behavior was typical of Alexandra. Even when there was no reason for it, Alexandra would get into moods where the mere presence of her siblings would set her on edge – it was as if she just could not handle the fact that they would never be able to live up to her outlandish expectations.

Despite the number of fits Alexandra had throughout the weekend, Caroline was happy. Honestly, Atticus was deeply relieved by this. Caroline was three years younger than Alexandra, and spent most of her life coming in second place to her older sister. Their father was an old-fashioned man who took pride in the Finch name, much like his oldest daughter, and it was no secret that Alexandra was his favorite child. All it would take was a look from Alexandra to set Caroline into a fit. However, on this weekend, no dirty look or snide remark from Alexandra could remove the smile from Caroline's face.

All in all, Caroline's wedding was fine. To another person, it was probably beautiful, but Atticus was never phased by weddings. As he had lived in Maycomb his entire life, he had been to the fair share of weddings of people in town. Even if he did not know them too well, Alexandra would remind him that it was his duty as a member of the Finch family to attend. Perhaps he wasn't too fond of weddings because usually he was stuck with Alexandra and her husband James. Now, Atticus didn't consider himself the most exciting person, but James was a stick in the mud. He hardly spoke and even when he was awake, he looked like he was asleep. Atticus knew Alexandra married him as a mere formality – they married as soon as she turned eighteen and produced a son Henry shortly after– and was not for love.

As he observed Caroline happily taking her vows, Atticus couldn't help but to wonder if Alexandra had ever been happy.

-o-o-o-

After Caroline and her husband left following the dinner Alexandra hosted at the Landing for the guests of the ceremony, signifying the end of the wedding festivities, Jack and Atticus were left standing in the kitchen. Alexandra was hunched over the sink, scrubbing at a pot. Jack and Atticus had collected all of the dishes from the dining room and were waiting for their next instruction.

"Maybe you should soak that thing," Jack said. What seemed to be a harmless suggestion to Atticus was the exact opposite to Alexandra. She slammed the sponge down into the sink and gave her younger brother a withering glare.

"You are lucky," she said slowly. "That you did not ruin this weekend."

Jack placed the dishes he was holding next to the sink. "You're overreactin', Zandra. This weekend was great, Caroline is happy, all is fine."

Alexandra's cheeks were bright red. "Yes, but you know how people talk," she said, before turning her gaze to Atticus. "You should have never let him go out with that girl."

Before Atticus could answer, Jack retorted: "I'm twenty-five years old, Zandra – Atticus isn't responsible for me."

"Yes, but he's supposedly responsible for that girl," Alexandra said, shaking her head. "So much good that is doin'. Not only is she feedin' children and buyin' them supplies, but I heard she was walking around the bad side of town, teachin' adults how to read!"

"She's not that girl," Atticus said calmly. "Her name is Jean. Zandra, I can't help but to notice that I'm hearin' most of these rumors for the first time from you."

Alexandra looked taken aback, as if her brother had slapped her in the face. Atticus could tell she was gritting her teeth. "I'm sick of my own brothers," she said, her voice shaking with anger. "Defending some stranger instead of their own sister."

"Zandra," Jack started. While Jack was quick to antagonize Alexandra, he was also the first to feel guilty when she confronted her siblings. "It's not like that, you just get so uptight—"

Jack stopped himself in his tracks as Alexandra's eyes grew wider. Atticus knew that his brother was truly trying to be helpful, but was not the best with words. To Alexandra, however, this was just another sarcastic remark. She took the pile of dishes that Atticus was still carrying. "You two can leave," she said sharply. "You haven't been much of a help this weekend, anyway."

Jacks face flushed. Roughly, he kissed his sister on the cheek. "I'll call you when I get back to Nashville." Atticus gave her a stiff hug, which she did not return.

-o-o-o-

"I'm sorry," Jack said a couple of minutes after they were on the road back to town. "I got her in this big fit, I didn't even think about it."

"To be honest," Atticus responded. "She's been like this for quite some time."

"Since _that girl_ moved here?" Jacked asked, rolling his eyes.

"I suppose you could say that."

Jack checked his watch. "I'm gonna call for her when we get back." He said. "That girl is somethin'."

"I assume you had a good time with her?"

"That girl can dance," Jack laughed. "Never would'va thought of it. But she shut that dance hall down."

"That's good." Atticus said, unsure of what exactly to say.

"It seems like the only people in town she likes are you and Maudie." Jack said. "Actually, it doesn't seem that – she flat out told me the only people she likes in Maycomb are you and Maudie. Besides the children, she's fond of those children she teaches."

"The rest of Maycomb hasn't been to kind to her." Atticus responded.

Jack chuckled to himself. "She told me to tell her your deepest secret," he said. "I told her you had a double life out west somewhere – a wife, a coupla kids and a whole different career and you actually went to see them when you said you were in Montgomery – she laughed in my face and told me you already told her about your three secret sons up North."


End file.
